


please picture me in the trees, i hit my peak at seven

by EvancexLizzie



Series: one single thread of gold tied me to you - ushisaku week [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Getting Together, Language of Flowers, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:55:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26339107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvancexLizzie/pseuds/EvancexLizzie
Summary: Ushisalu week - day 5 (flowershop au) + day 6 (hanakotoba)“I don’t get why someone would use flowers to address someone.” The voice takes Ushijima by surprise and he turns around to look at the man. It’s rough, half-muffled by the surgical mask. Still, it sounds strangely nice. “Why not spat directly what you have to say to people’s faces?”Ushijima slightly tilts his head to the right, watching the tall man with interest. It takes him a few seconds to answer, thoroughly choosing his next words.
Relationships: Sakusa Kiyoomi/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Series: one single thread of gold tied me to you - ushisaku week [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873648
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59
Collections: UshiSakuWeek 2020





	please picture me in the trees, i hit my peak at seven

**Author's Note:**

> ayoooo coming back !
> 
> sorry for the long wait, i felt kinda unmotivated to finish this week and took a little longer to get this fic out !
> 
> enjoy :)

It all starts with a little boy interested in flowers.

A little boy who one day walks past one of the numerous flower shops located in Tokyo and stops in front of it, contemplating the different jars full of colorful flowers with wide eyes and genuine interest. Then, basking in the innocence of childhood that forces him to touch everything he sees, the child grabs a flower he has taken a liking in, and starts rolling the stem between his fingers, before proudly showing his discovery to the young adult who accompanies him.

Ushijima, too busy watering the plants on the other front side of the shop, doesn’t see it happen but, coming from experience, that’s what he imagines happened when he hears a stern, disapproving, half-muffled voice from behind. 

"... Put that thing back where you find it.” The strange voice deadpans. "Don’t you realize how many bacterias those things carry?”

Ushijima has heard his fair share of criticism against flowers. People usually find them uninteresting or useless, sometimes even too malodorous for their comfort. However, he’s never heard of someone who disliked flowers because they were vectors of bacterias.

He takes a break from his current duty and turns around to look at the odd pair. A little boy, no older than ten, is currently holding a beautiful medium-sized sunflower between his fingers, showing it to the adult on his left. 

Ushijima’s gaze lingers for longer than necessary on the tall stranger. He’s tall, certainly as tall as Ushijima but that’s difficult to judge considering how huddled up his posture is. His hair is beautifully wavy, a mix of mesmerizing short obsidian curls that fall around a face half-hidden by a surgical mask and half-showing a deep scowl, eyebrows crunching in annoyance and hollowed-out forehead wrinkles. He’s mostly dressed in black from head to toe and has his hands shoved in his sports jacket’s pockets. 

Two distinctive moles -as pitch-dark as his eyes- are carved into his skin, just above his right eyebrow.

"But it’s pretty!" The little boy argues. He holds out the flower to the adult who reflexively draws back, mild disgust appearing on his face. “Can I have it?”

Ushijima isn’t one to disturb clients normally, but Tendou told him months ago he should try to interact more with people going around the shop. So, he decides to step in.

"Hi." Both strangers turn their head to look at him. Ushijima squats down a little, one hand still holding the watering can and the other grabbing his apron. He knows his height and stern looks scare most children -Tendou made fun of him enough for that-. Truth is, he’s currently the most nervous of both. "Do you like flowers?"

The little boy hesitantly nods without saying anything, eyebrows crunching in fear and apprehension as he lifts his chin to look at Ushijima.

Ushijima’s gaze briefly flickers towards the dark-haired stranger, who’s studying him with mild caution, his scowl not easing in the slightest. Getting his attention back onto the child, the florist speaks again, in the softest voice possible.

“You can keep the flower if you want to. Or offer it to someone you like.”

The little boy’s face illuminates, and he turns his head towards the man - Ushijima doesn’t understand if those two are related in any way, considering how flashy orange the boy’s hair is -, certainly to ask for permission to keep it. The tall stranger doesn’t say anything, but there’s a slight, almost imperceptible nod.

“Thank you ojisan!” The little boy beams at Ushijima, squeezing the flower against his chest, and Ushijima can’t help but smile back a little. Then, the boy’s gaze wanders to the store window, where the words “ _ why express your feelings with words when you could express them through flowers”  _ are elegantly written. "Ojisan, is it true that all flowers have a meaning?"

“Yes.” He responds, as gently as possible. He’s trying not to think much about the fact that he’s being called “ojisan” because, well, he certainly isn’t  _ that _ old. “Do you wish to know what your flower means?”

The boy nods eagerly, all traces of intimidation replaced by genuine curiosity. On the other hand, Ushijima is pretty certain without having to look that the dubious scowl on the tall man has only deepened.

“Sunflower is about passionate love and radiance.” Ushijima says, speaking matter-of-factly. “It’s a flower you can offer to someone who brings you joy or who you deeply appreciate.”

The child nods in awe, eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open at the explanation. The dark-haired stranger rolls his eyes, annoyance barely contained. 

“I don’t get why someone would use flowers to address someone.” The voice takes Ushijima by surprise and he turns around to look at the man. It’s rough, half-muffled by the surgical mask. Still, it sounds strangely nice. “Why not spat directly what you have to say to people’s faces?”

Ushijima slightly tilts his head to the right, watching the tall man with interest. It takes him a few seconds to answer, thoroughly choosing his next words.

"Hum, some people are not good with words and want to make sure their feelings are being properly conveyed.” Ushijima answers with the same stoic tone. “I am quite a blunt person myself, so I understand what you mean. However, I've learned that being too blunt and not carefully choosing your words can sometimes hurt others’ feelings."

"If people can't handle the truth, it’s because they’re delusional." The stranger sternly answers.

"I do believe that, while nearly everyone can handle the truth, it’s our responsibility to state it in a careful and meaningful way. Lying is never the answer, but disregarding others’ feelings isn’t either.” There’s a small pause when Ushijima realizes he may have spoken too much, and too earnestly for his own good. "But that’s only my personal opinion on the subject."

Ushijima expects the tall man’s face to grow even more annoyed. However, his eyebrows twitch in a confused way and his raven orbs scrutinize him, unreadable. It looks like a myriad of complicated expressions colluding at the same time.

Seconds after, he just shrugs as if he’s suddenly lost interest in the conversation. But Ushijima can see the interrogation in that inky profound gaze, see a sudden yearning for a challenge, a peaked interest he’s trying to hide. 

“We should get going.” He gently nudges the little boy -who was watching the exchange with curiosity- with his elbow in the direction they were initially heading to. 

Ushijima nods and slightly bows his head in respect. “Have a nice day, and thank you for stopping by our shop.”

The stranger stares at him for a few seconds, with such intensity that Ushijima wonders if he has something on his face. 

However, he just gets a nod in return. Considering it’s time to resume his duties, Ushijima turns around, certainly not expecting to hear seconds after, “...and thank you. For the flower.” 

Surprised, the florist looks over his shoulder, but the odd pair is already walking away from the shop.

Ushijima watches him leave, his gaze lingering on the frame, flickering between the broad shoulders and the slim waist he can easily discern under this oversized sports jacket.

“Wakatoshi-kun,” Ushijima jumps hearing the voice and turns around. Too focused on the strange man’s back, he didn’t hear Tendou show up behind him. “wasn’t that Sakusa Kiyoomi?”

“Sakusa Kiyoomi?” He says, a thoughtful frown on his face, because the name sounds oddly familiar and he’s starting to wonder if he hadn’t already seen the man somewhere.

“You know, the volleyball player from the Japanese national team.” Tendou tilts his head on the right. “You didn’t recognize him? Hm, maybe I’m mistaken, but he sure looked like him if you take the mask off.”

“Oh.” Ushijima opens his mouth, forgetting to speak as everything clicks in his brain. Now that he thinks about it, there was indeed something familiar with the man’s face. “No, you’re right. I think it was him.”

As a volleyball enthusiast and former player himself, Ushijima always religiously watches matches from the V League and the international encounters. However, he’s never been interested that much in individual players and, truth be told, he has some trouble remembering faces.

An hour later, Ushijima takes advantage of his break to check on the internet, typing the name “Sakusa Kiyoomi” in the research bar of his smartphone. He’s met with pictures of the player, both in action or taken for promotional purposes, and immediately recognizes the face from earlier, mask off. 

His eyes linger for longer than expected on one portrait of Sakusa in front of the camera, expression stoic, profound charcoal eyes staring straight at him, the two characteristic moles located just above his right eyebrow. 

That picture stays anchored in his mind for the rest of the day.

  
  


Given how their encounter went, Ushijima certainly doesn’t expect the tall dark-haired volleyball player to visit the shop again. The next day proves itself to be busy, so busy Tendou and him barely have time to take their lunch break. The wedding season is approaching dangerously and they have to prepare a variety of floral compositions -each symbolizing a different kind of love- to present to the married couples so they can choose.

As closing time approaches, they start cleaning and tidying everything. They’re both busy in the stockroom that is located behind the counter at the back of the shop when the entrance bell quietly rings, announcing a potential new customer. Seeing that Tendou has his hands full of leaves and traces of dirt on his face, Ushijima goes in front, ready to welcome the new client.

“Welco-” The end of the word gets stuck in his throat as he immediately recognizes the man. Sakusa Kiyoomi has traded his black outfit from the previous day for a grey long-sleeve tee-shirt and black yoga pants. He seems to have taken an interest in some white chrysanthemums displayed in a corner, his face reluctantly approaching the flowers while his whole body stays as far as possible from the living organisms. 

Sakusa doesn’t appear to have heard him and Ushijima waits for a few seconds before speaking again because it’s actually funny to watch someone look at plants while wanting nothing more than to run away from it.

“Welcome.” Ushijima starts again, tone steady. “How can I help you?”

Sakusa turns his head and walks towards the counter. That’s when Ushijima realizes, gaze furtively trailing beneath, that Sakusa’s waist is indeed slim. Very slim. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi has always been a weak man for slim waists. 

“Hi.” Sakusa’s  _ intense  _ gaze lunges into his, forcing him to concentrate on his face. “I want to try it.” 

“...I beg your pardon, what do you wish to try?”

"...A bouquet that conveys emotions." Sakusa answers, his eyebrows strangely twisting. He has weird eyebrows. Weird, beautiful eyebrows. "The thing you talked about yesterday."

In front of the stretching silence, Sakusa’s stare screams a challenging  _ “don’t you dare not remembering me”  _ and all Ushijima wants to answer is that he remembers him clearly, has indeed never remembered a client as much as he remembers him because, of course, a tall, athletic, handsome stranger isn't easily forgettable.

"Of course. What message would you like to convey?" He says instead.

"...I want to explain to a teammate that he’s loud and obnoxious." Sakusa starts. “And also that he lacks basic knowledge of what personal space is.”

Ushijima thankfully wasn’t born very expressive. It definitely helps with the unusual demands he’s had over the years and, if he were to rank those tomorrow, this one wouldn’t be far from the podium.

As he bypasses the counter to stand on the same side as Sakusa, he takes a few seconds to process the request. His gaze immediately browses through the shop, already thinking of the adequate bouquet. 

"And you haven't told him before ?" Ushijima says, walking towards a bunch of jars on the left. He starts by picking a few yellow and red freesias, scanning around the place.

"I have, multiple times. But I think he’s deaf. Or stupid." Sakusa turns around and follows him. “What are those flowers?”

“Freesias. To state his childishness.” Ushijima strolls to the other side of the shop and picks some strings of white ericas. “Those are ericas. It describes solitude.”

Ushijima side-looks at Sakusa reverently nodding, his stare focused on the bouquet. The florist certainly didn’t expect someone so skeptical at first to listen to his explanations without questioning them. 

Then, his gaze comes across some orange lilies.

“Do you strongly dislike him?”

“Not really.” It is said with such casualty Ushijima actually wonders which type of teammate it could be. “I just want him to stop invading my personal space.”

Ushijima nods and thus refrains from adding other flowers to the bouquet. He returns behind the counter and undertakes to decorate the bouquet with different kinds of leaves to create a beautiful composition. For a short moment he has forgotten about Sakusa’s presence and intense gaze, focusing solely on creating something beautiful.

He gets a nice brown silk paper from under the counter and wraps it around the bouquet.

“Is it to your taste?” Ushijima finally lifts his head from his creation to look at Sakusa. 

The latter silently nods. He doesn’t seem like the type to thoroughly express his joy, so Ushijima wasn’t expecting a burst of compliments and happiness like he sometimes gets. Given Sakusa’s appeased expression, eyes softening around the edges and forehead wrinkles almost vanished, it’s safe to assume he is indeed content with the outcome.

As Ushijima searches for an orange ribbon from under the desk, he finds a little sunflower, certainly a leftover from a bouquet he made earlier. He takes it out and places it next to the bouquet.

“If you want to offer it to the little boy that accompanied you yesterday. “ Ushijima explains, feeling forced under the questioning gaze.

“It’s no use. I won’t see him before a while,” Sakusa says, and he’s not hiding the certain relief that comes with those words. “He is one of my teammates' son.”

“Oh, ok.” Ushijima answers. 

He wants to add something, to assure Sakusa that he recognized him yesterday and tell him that he used to play volleyball and now follows matches from the First Japanese Division as well as international matches. But the words get stuck in his throat, for fear of annoying him, for fear of not expressing himself correctly, for fear of antagonizing Sakusa with one sentence only.

Sakusa pays, thanks him, and leaves without lingering further around.

Ushijima’s gaze follows his back, feeling like he’s missed an opportunity.

The thing is, Sakusa Kiyoomi keeps coming.

He doesn’t come every day and he never comes for a long time, but he still visits the shop more than any client has. Most of the time, he doesn’t buy anything, just strolls around, and admires the diversity of flowers. When Ushijima isn’t busy with a client or a command, they exchange a few sentences. When he’s busy, Sakusa usually stays on the side for a few minutes and then proceeds to leave.

Ushijima doesn’t know when he started longing for Sakusa’s visits, but at some point his heart starts fluttering and expectation rises in his chest, warm and prickling, whenever he hears the doorbell ring throughout the day. 

Sakusa often comes at the end of the afternoon, usually in a black jogging suit -Ushijima wonders if his closet isn’t just a display of the exact same clothes- and carrying his sports bag. 

After a few awkward visits, they start talking about volleyball, as Ushijima finally manages to confess one day that he’s indeed an MSBY Black Jackals supporter. He wouldn’t say Sakusa is passionate about volleyball -he doesn’t seem like the kind to be passionate about anything- but there’s a little something that lights up in his eyes and that sneaks in his voice when he speaks about serve receiving, a little something strong and fervent, a little something that passionates Ushijima and makes him yearn for more conversations.

Ushijima never asks why Sakusa spends so much of his free time strolling around the shop, but he wants to. The man certainly has more interesting things to do after a day full of training, still he hangs out here. Yet, Ushijima fears he’ll scare him away if he asks.

“Did your teammate like the flowers?” Ushijima asks on a quiet day, as he sweeps the floor.

“Far more than he should have.” Sakusa sternly answers, an annoyed frown settling between his eyebrows. Recently, Ushijima discovered that Sakusa could maintain a relaxed face for more than three seconds and that his forehead wrinkles weren’t permanently carved into his skin. He stills wears the mask whenever he walks into the shop. “Almost cried, then he thanked me, and tried to hug me. I don’t think he got the message.”

There’s a small pause before Sakusa speaks again, voice reaching from behind. “What does this flower represent?”

Ushijima looks over his shoulder, towards the white gardenias Sakusa’s finger points out.

“Secret infatuation.” His throat is strangely dry when the words leave his mouth, and he hopes Sakusa doesn’t notice it. Thankfully the latter appears to be too focused on the flower.

During his visits over the last weeks, he’s been asking about some of the flowers’ meanings to Ushijima. He’s always listened with reverence, nodding and asking rare questions about possible double meanings or the origin of that symbolism.

“Can I have one?”

Ushijima nods, not trusting himself to speak. It makes his heart throb and his insides burn, knowing that Sakusa probably has someone he’s longing for in secret. He’s wondered a few times if Sakusa was single, but Tendou looked up on the internet for him -he didn’t explicitly ask but well, Tendou’s always been able to read between the lines- and didn’t find anything.

Sakusa turns the stem of the flower between his gloved fingers for a few stretching seconds and then unexpectedly extends it towards Ushijima. 

There’s a long, heavy, silence that seems indefinite, the air hanging in the atmosphere between them.

For one second, one small second, Ushijima allows himself to hope, his breath hitching in his throat. Sakusa’s gaze is, as usual, intense and unreadable, not leaving Ushijima’s face for an instant.

Ultimately, after silently pondering the consequences an erroneous interpretation could have on their fragile relationship, he chooses to not take any risk and gently grabs the flower without thinking much of it.

“Wasn’t it to your liking?” Ushijima asks, as casual as possible, as he puts back the flower inside his pot and carefully avoids Sakusa’s burning gaze drilling a hole in his back. “Would you want another one?”

Considering the stretching silence, Ushijima feels forced to turn around and face him again. Sakusa’s frown has deepened beyond he would have expected, his eyebrows strangely shaping into apparent confusion. He blinks several times as his gaze flickers between the flower that returned to its original place and Ushijima. 

When he speaks, his tone is unusually hoarse. “No, it’s good.”

They barely exchange words after that, and Sakusa leaves a few minutes after, almost in precipitation. Ushijima watches him disappear, incertitude and discomfort crippling his body and hanging heavily on his shoulders. 

He can’t help but feel like he just strongly and admirably fucked up.

It takes two weeks for Sakusa to come back.

Two very, very, very long weeks.

Before their last encounter, Sakusa used to walk by the shop every two days. As such, after one week of complete absence, Ushijima can’t help but worry.

Maybe it has something to do with the weird exchange they had the last time. He must have done or said something that disgusted Sakusa and he won’t ever be back. It’s ok, he has the right not to, it’s not as if anything was going on between them. Ushijima isn’t even sure about how he feels towards the tall, handsome opposite hitter with mesmerizing eyes and witted spirit.

He tries to not think much about it, busying himself as he can, but Tendou, quick as ever, does notice it rapidly. Then again, he did sweep the exact same corner for five minutes without stopping, too lost in his thoughts to realize.

“Sakusaku isn’t coming today either?”

“Hm. Apparently not.” Ushijima sternly answers. He’s currently rearranging some pots in a corner.

“Maybe you should give him a call, or, you know, invite him to hang out after work.” Tendou comes to lurk behind him, hands behind his back. Ushijima side-looks at him, knowing exactly what game his co-worker and best friend is trying to play.

“It would have been unprofessional to ask for a client’s personal number.” Ushijima answers, because yes, he’s thought about it multiple times, and no, he never took the plunge. 

“Wakatoshi-kun, he hasn’t bought anything in weeks, so I wouldn’t consider him as a client.” Tendou points out, a wry smile on his lips, big eyes scrutinizing Ushijima’s face, looking for the smallest hint. “Don’t tell me you actually believe he’s only coming here to look at the flowers, every two days, and only when you’re on your shift.”

Ushijima shrugs. He’s been thinking about it, of course, but he certainly doesn’t want to get his hopes high. He knows the fall will be even greater otherwise. “It’s a relaxing place. I don’t see why not.”

Tendou shakes his head in disbelief. “Wakatoshi-kun, you’re unbelievable!” Ushijima watches his colleague disappear inside the stockroom seconds after. He barely has time to sigh before he can hear Tendou screaming from behind. “Someone help me get this boy laid!” 

Ushijima rolls his eyes and returns to rearranging the window shop.

One week later, Sakusa finally comes back. When he steps inside the shop, Ushijima is in the stockroom, currently taking care of the batches of flowers and plants they just received and potting them with attention.

He hears Tendou speaking loudly from the counter. “Welcom- Oh, Sakusaku! It’s been a while!” 

Ushijima stops his hands in mid-air, heart churning and panic rising in his insides. He certainly wasn’t prepared for Sakusa to come back and has absolutely no idea of which behavior he should adopt. The nice thing is, he hasn’t yet finished to properly pot and water everything, which means- 

“Hi.” He hears Sakusa say, barely audible. “...Is Wakatoshi-kun there?”

“Ah yes, he’s back there!” There’s a second of silence before Tendou speaks again, even louder. “Wakatoshi-kun, your  _ client _ is here!” 

Not one second later, Tendou appears in the storeroom, a smile that goes up to his ears and his eyes narrowed. He hushes him out of the room with a sign of hand, “I’m taking care of that, go be all lovey-dovey and get some phone number!”

Ushijima silently curses Tendou for being such a loud individual, desperately hoping Sakusa hasn’t heard that. He comes back into the room, trying to not think too much about how his cheeks are reddening and his heart is drumming in his chest loud enough for the neighbors to actually hear it, and immediately meets Sakusa’s gaze.

It takes a few seconds to figure out what exactly has changed and why it feels so confusing. For the first time since they met each other, Sakusa has traded his usual jogging suits for a pair of dark tight high-waisted jeans, a crimson shirt that fits inside, and a black bomber that perfectly fits above his broad shoulders. 

“Welcome.” Ushijima says, throat dry and voice slightly croaking. “What can I help you with?”

"I'd like a bouquet, for a special occasion."

Ushijima politely nods, bypassing the counter. “Which feelings would you like to convey?”

Even under the mask, Ushijima can see Sakusa’s jaw tightening. He wishes he could see him from close without the mask, just once. “...I’d like to transmit a sort of infatuation.” He adds, after a small silence. “Romantic infatuation.”

Ushijima would have favored ten freezing showers over the words that were thrown at him, raw and cruel. For a brief instant, his whole body freezes, chest tightening, and heart agonizing.

He should have guessed better. He was a fool for even allowing himself to think about it.

Ushijima starts strolling around the shop, carefully avoiding Sakusa’s piercing gaze. He picks a few red roses and red carnations and dully explains to Sakusa how they symbolize strong affection. Then, he embellishes the outskirt of the flowers with some spider lilies and white anemones to convey the sweetness and the sincerity of the message. 

During the preparation, Sakusa doesn’t say anything, and Ushijima feels a little hot under the scrutinized gaze, obsidian orbs never leaving his face in the slightest.

Ushijima goes back behind the counter shortly after and starts decorating the bouquet with different leaves, blissfully staying focused so he doesn’t cross stares with Sakusa. It’s already hard enough to feel that intense, sharp stare piercing through him, sharp as a needle pricking his skin.

"Here.” Ushijima shows him the final bouquet a few minutes after. “Is it to your taste?"

Sakusa’s gaze merely flickers to the bouquet before getting back to Ushijima’s eyes. He simply nods. “Would you like it, if it was offered to you?”

“...I would.” He adds quickly, fearing the short answer might be misinterpreted. “Whoever will receive it is a lucky person.”

Sakusa doesn’t answer anything, but his jaw unclenches slightly and his eyebrows ease a little, wrinkles disappearing. He gets his wallet out of his pocket, but Ushijima extends his hand before he has the chance to pick his credit card, shoving the bouquet directly in front of him.

"Consider it a gift to bring you luck."

Sakusa takes the bouquet in one hand, the other still holding his pocket, his eyes still transfixed on Ushijima, face indescribable.

Then, quite unexpectedly, Sakusa hands him the bouquet over the counter. 

Ushijima furrows his eyebrows, not hiding his confused emotions for once. He doesn’t move, doesn’t take it, doesn’t say anything. He just waits for Sakusa to speak, to express his feelings, to explain whatever is currently going on here.

But Sakusa’s gesture is steady and Sakusa’s gaze is immovable.

Ushijima hasn’t thought that Sakusa may not like gratuitous things, or he may be allergic to one of the flowers. Everything to avoid irrationality invading his mind, prevent hope from sneaking in his thoughts, appease the turmoil stirring up his insides. 

At some point, Ushijima feels forced to speak again. "I’m sorry, but I insist on making it a gift.”

Sakusa’s face slowly transforms into a scowl so deep it feels like his eyebrows are on the verge of merging. Ushijima could find it funny if the situation wasn’t just so deadly awkward.

"Itsforyou." Sakusa finally mumbles under his mask, so quickly and strangled that it’s barely understandable.

Ushijima isn’t that confident that he thinks he heard welll. Apprehension rises in his chest, and his heart churns, it churns so loudly he feels it beating in his eardrums and invading his head.

"I beg your pardon, could you repeat please?" He tries, as steady as possible.

That’s when he notices the deep crimson shade rising on his cheekbones, just above the surgical mask, a mirror to the flowers he’s currently holding.

"Ok. Fine." The volleyball player says abruptly, seemingly furious. But before Ushijima can answer, he turns around and takes big strides on his way out, getting out of the shop.

“Huh, he already left?” Tendou’s voice reaches from behind, and Ushijima is ready to turn around and share his utmost confused state when the doorbell rings again.

Sakusa strides through the shop and comes at a brutal stop in front of the counter, his eyes not leaving Ushijima’s face for one second. "Hi. Can I speak to Ushijima Wakatoshi please?" He sounds almost hurried, almost breathless. But not muffled anymore.

Ushijima’s eyes widen as he realises that he can see those pinky, beautiful lips moving and then pressing into a thin line. He can finally contemplate that refined jaw and that nice, smooth chin. He can finally observe that thin and perfect nose.

For the first time since they met, Sakusa has taken his mask off.

"...It’s me.” He answers, a confused scowl on his face.

Sakusa hands the bouquet to Ushijima, unfazed. "It’s for you."

There’s a stretching silence in the room, a few seconds of realization coming on Ushijima’s side whose mouth hangs open before closing, heart beating so loud it feels on the verge of exploding, heat climbing under his neck and butterflies blooming in his insides. 

The warmth reaches his ears and gains his cheeks, coloring his skin a beautiful carmine.

Ushijima extends his hand to take the bouquet, bowing his head in gratitude. “Thank you.”

Barely holding a sigh of relief, Sakusa clears his throat before speaking again. “Are you free tomorrow evening?”

"Yes-”

“He’s free now!” Tendou interrupts, hurriedly stepping in the room -not that he wasn’t actively listening on the doorstep anyway-. He hushes Ushijima out of the counter and urges him to take his apron off, untying the knot for him. “It’s okay, he doesn’t do anything at night anyway, and we’re near closing time. So please Sakusaku, take him somewhere, I can’t stand to watch you two pining here, it’s insufferable.”

Before either of them can protest or even understand what’s happening, they’ve been pushed out of the shop by an insistent Tendou. 

Bouquet still in his hands, Ushijima turns towards Sakusa and watches him stick another surgical mask on his face.

Their gazes meet once again, both soothed and embarrassed by the current outcome. 

“I know a place.” Ushijima suggests, feeling strangely confident for once. “There are no flowers inside, but it’s still nice.”

Sakusa gauges him for a second before answering. “I wasn’t coming here for the flowers. Do you realize how many bacterias those things carry?”

Ushijima’s lips twitch upwards, a nice and pleasant warmth rising in his chest. For the first time, he actually allows himself to be soothed by his affection towards the dark-haired man.

“Well, I’m all ears.”

It’s going to be a lovely date, he has no doubts about that.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed !
> 
> as always, kudos & comments are greatly appreciated and, you know, they keep us motivated !
> 
> i dunno if I'll finish day 7 one day, so for now im considering the series over! but I'll keep on writing for ushisaku ofc
> 
> thanks to iggy for beta-reading this !!


End file.
